


True As It Can Be

by the Inktree (the_Inktree)



Series: Reverse Beauty and the Beast AU [2]
Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beast!Amity, Body Horror, Changeling!Luz, Changelings have ADHD/are Autistic, F/F, I kiss the love of my life and she turns into a sick monster and it’s awesome, I’m trying for a distinct lack of body horror, Reverse Beauty and the Beast, but there is transformation so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Inktree/pseuds/the%20Inktree
Summary: “Amity Blight,” the Archmage began, rolling her hands as if shaping an invisible ball of clay, “You are young, and so I think I shall be gentle, and give you a delayed curse. It will not touch you until you are kissed by someone who truly loves you. I give you the gift of honesty. From the moment your lover’s lips touch your body, you shall be transformed: the rage and fury you conceal shall be displayed for all the world to see, in claw and fang and fur.”
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda
Series: Reverse Beauty and the Beast AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999651
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	True As It Can Be

“Hello!” It was a bright, bubbly voice that startled Amity from dark thoughts about her upcoming marriage. “Having a good day?”

The woman who’d joined her on the road was short and square. Though perhaps the squareness was just the scuffed blue tunic she wore, belted with a length rope. She carried a canvas sack slung over her shoulder, though it looked to be empty. Her brown hair was cut short, and stood out every which way. Amity’s first thought, unbecoming though it was, was that the woman was poor, possibly even a beggar.

Falling back on her ingrained manners, Amity stopped walking down the road and spread the skirt of her nicest travelling dress in a semiformal curtsey. “Good day to you too. I am called Amity, of House Blight.” 

“Call me Luz.” The woman bent in a sloppy bow, then popped back up, saying, “I’m headed to Court to pick up some groceries for my Master.”

Amity resumed walking, smoothing down her skirt unnecessarily. The woman, Luz, fell into step beside her, closer than propriety allowed. Still, conversation offered an escape from her own worries.

“You are an apprentice?” Amity asked, “In what trade?”

“I guess you could say herbalism? Yeah, that’s probably closest.”

Amity eyed her, noting the rather transparent evasion. It wouldn’t be polite to bluntly expose the dishonesty, however. “That sounds… unlikely.” 

Luz looked away off the road, pointing with a finger at various plants in the woods alongside. The warm brown skin of her arms and legs were scattered with scars. “That’s chamomile, in tea it’s good for relaxing. That’s dogbane, makes good twine or rope, that’s valerian, useful as an aid to sleep.”

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” Amity almost smiled at the clear enthusiasm Luz showed for her trade. “Herbalist apprentice. Does your master sell those to healers and such?”

“Some, but mostly what she sells are pastes and poultices she makes from them.” Luz fiddled with the fraying ends of her rope belt. “What about you? What’s a pretty lady like yourself travelling to the Emperor’s Court for? Alone, no less.”

Amity ignored the compliment, far too used to such empty words. “Why, are you planning to rob me?”

“Never!” Luz placed a hand over her heart, face twisted like an amateur playwright. “I could never steal from such a vision of beauty! And I don’t plan much of anything if I can help it,” she added with a smirk.

“I have… a personal issue,” Amity said, looking down at her hands, “that I hope the Archmage will be able to help me with.”  _ That should be enough to politely deflect further questioning _ , she thought.

Unfortunately, it seemed Luz wasn’t reading from the same rulebook. “A  _ personal  _ issue. Ooh, I’m curious now.” Amity found herself the focus of an eager stare. “You can tell me, we’re all womenfolk here.” 

She’d tried being subtle, but apparently Luz couldn’t take a hint.  _ Nosy woman. _ “No, I shan’t be sharing the details with you.”

“C’mon. You can tell me. Is it personal as in private, or personal as in  _ privates _ ?” And Luz gestured between her legs, wiggling her eyebrows.

Amity gaped at her, amused despite herself. Wait, no! Crude humour was not to be tolerated. “How utterly crass! Did your mother never teach you manners?”

“Never had much use for manners. Always seemed a bit dishonest, honestly.” The blasted woman wasn’t even looking at her!

Amity summoned the most scathing tone she could. “You are a strange creature.”

“And proud of it.” Luz’s sunny smile didn’t even waver.

Amity’s face flushed, a snarl twisting her features. How  _ dare _ this woman! To pry into Amity’s affairs with no regard for courtesy, and then have the nerve to claim to be  _ proud _ of her weirdness.

“How can you speak like that? Foul, vile woman! The Emperor hangs such as you, you know!”

Luz stumbled, tripped, and fell. When she looked back up at Amity, she froze. Her face was blank, staring off past Amity’s shoulder. Good. Let her feel the proper fear. Hopefully she’d learn some shame, before she poked her nose in the business of someone less kind. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Amity continued, “Begone, devil!”

Without a word, Luz stood and turned, breaking into a jog. She quickly disappeared around the next bend, empty sack flapping behind her.

Amity was left alone with her anger, now directionless. Her dark thoughts returned. Her majority. Her betrothal. Her  _ fiance _ . Her  _ parents _ . She fumed all the way to Court.

***

Amity arrived at the Archmage’s house, a small building of dark stone. Not as elegant or imposing as she’d been expecting of the Emperor’s hand-picked mage, but she supposed the woman must have some reason for that. She pulled the bell-cord, hearing a bright, ringing tone from somewhere within.

The door opened a minute later and a tall, pale woman peered out, asking “Can I help you?”

“I have come to speak with the Archmage Lilith. She wrote that today would suit her? I am Amity, of House Blight.”

The woman glanced up at the sky, checking the angle of the sun. “Right. Please step this way, Miss Blight.” As the woman exited the house, Amity noted her black-and-white robes, simple in cut but made of fine cloth, and her wide black belt, with a pattern of vines picked out in silver thread. 

She led Amity to the side of the house, where they passed through a sturdy gate in the tall stone wall, and into a garden. As the woman closed the gate behind them, it seemed to Amity that the sounds of the town around them receded, allowing the quiet buzz of insects to be heard. As they walked down a twisting path, Amity found herself peering this way and that, taking in the huge variety of plants and flowers present. She couldn’t see a single plant that was repeated more than once. 

The woman leading her plucked a small blue flower as they walked, then a little red berry, and finally, three leaves from each of three adjacent bushes. 

Then they arrived at a dark wooden door, and Amity realised they’d reached the rear of the Archmage’s house. The garden must be quite large. It was impressive, especially given it was in the centre of Court Town, barely a stone’s throw from the palace. Property here was expensive.

“Forgive me,” Amity said, as the woman bent to unlock the door, “I’ve yet to be formally presented at Court. You are the Archmage Lilith, correct?”

“Correct.” The woman straightened and looked down at Amity with a small smile. “Please, step into my office.”

The office was unlike any other Amity had seen. Oh, there were the usual bookshelves and cabinets, books with gilt covers and impressive titles, and the tall stained-glass windows to let the light in without letting anyone see inside. But there was no desk piled with papers, just an empty little writing desk in the corner, and no carpet or rug, just bare tile. And in the centre of the room was a narrow octagonal table made of solid stone, roughly hewn on the sides, but smooth and flat on top, with a perfect circle carved into the top, and a rune carved into each corner.

Lilith placed her handful of gathered plant material on the table, and said, “Tell me what the Emperor can do for you today, Miss Blight.”

Amity took a steadying breath, then began, “Last sevenday, when I reached my majority, my parents informed me that I have been betrothed to Jarold, of House Whitetree.”

As Amity spoke, Lilith began walking around the room, opening cabinets and collecting small jars and bags, and one shallow bowl, into which she poured water from a decanter on the writing desk.

“Having now exhausted my other options,” Amity continued, “I wish to ask for your assistance in finding some way to annul my betrothal. Else I fear I shall have to resort to running away, or perhaps suicide.”

Lilith raised an eyebrow, “You dislike your betrothed that much?” 

“It is not just that. I do dislike him, but no more than any other eligible man I’ve met.”

“Were you hoping for a better match? More status, or wealth?” 

“No, it’s just... My parents have never once listened to me. I’d hoped that reaching adulthood would mean I could choose what I wanted to do, but there has been no change.” She might have left it at that, but watching the Archmage’s quiet, smooth movements was soothing, almost hypnotic. Amity found herself continuing, voice rising higher and higher, “My every move is monitored, and my days are planned and scheduled for me. I was only able to come to Court today because I implied that you had asked for my presence, and refusing would be an insult. Never once am I honestly consulted for my wishes. Occasionally they will put on a show of asking my opinion, but it is a trap. If I give the wrong answer, they will spend an hour or more berating me, then do as they wish, as if they had changed my mind.”

As Amity fell silent, Lilith bent over the table, adding a pinch or two from each bag or jar to the water, which soon was dark as a night sky, and seemed deeper than the bowl that contained it. Then she returned each of the ingredients to its resting place, and brought out a mortar and pestle.

“Would not marriage be an escape from your parents? Your fiancé might well be less controlling, especially if he required your help to run his estate.” Lilith placed the plant material she had gathered from the garden into the mortar, and began grinding them into a paste.

“No, my parents are very close with his, it would be no escape from them.”

“So then the betrothal is but a small part of the bigger issue, being that you want freedom, and have none.”

Amity didn’t think she’d ever had someone lay out her problem in such stark words. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“Well, I’m inclined to help, but I like to be careful about things, so I’m going to cast a divination. It helps to avoid… mistakes with grave consequences.” Holding the mortar in one hand, Lilith dipped a finger in the paste, and smeared a series of strange marks onto the table, around the circumference of the carven circle. Then she placed the mortar aside, wiped her hands on a cloth, and fetched a small penknife from the writing desk. This she presented to Amity, saying, “Prick a finger, and drip one drop of blood into the water.”

Amity did so, and when she handed back the knife, Lilith also closed a hand around her finger. A moment later, she removed it and the cut was gone, without even a scar to show where it had been. She tried to hide her surprise, but by the curl of Lilith’s mouth, Amity suspected she still looked amazed.

The Archmage bent over the bowl, and whispered a few words in a language Amity didn’t understand. Then she spoke clearly: “How can I best help this one achieve freedom?” and looked deep into the dark water.

Nothing happened for a moment, and Amity was about to speak up, when Lilith muttered, “That can’t be right… it’s so extreme! Surely there’s more to it…” She continued in that vein for a while, then fell silent when the water cleared, revealing the bottom of the bowl.

Still not looking up, Lilith said “I will... consider it.”

Amity knew that those words, in the mouth of an authority figure, meant ‘no’. She kept her face carefully neutral, though. It would not do for her parents to hear of her shouting obscenities at the Archmage.

On their way out through the garden, the Archmage tilted her head, listening, then strode off down a side path. Amity hurried to catch up, and when she did she saw Luz, the same woman she’d met on the road that morning.

Luz was already moving as she came into view, standing and swinging her sack, now full, up onto her shoulder. She grinned and saluted in their direction with a single red rose, clearly just cut from the bush she’d been crouched by. Then she ran.

Lilith pursued, muttering something under her breath. As Luz reached the edge of the garden and scrambled up the wall, the Archmage stopped and moved her hand as if throwing something. Luz had just disappeared over the top of the wall when there was a mighty boom, and the stone there cracked and threw up dust as if hit by a great force.

“Curses!” Lilith cried. She walked the rest of the way to the wall and raised a hand up toward the top, waving it back and forth slowly. “That shouldn’t be possible. How is the ward still active?”

“The ward?” Amity asked, arriving at the wall.

“It was designed as a pest-control spell,” Lilith answered, still looking at things Amity couldn’t see, “to keep a certain type of creature out of an area. What type of creature, the spell identifies using a little blood. I used my own, so it keeps out humans. I don’t understand how that girl keeps getting in.”

“How do  _ you  _ get in?”

“The ward doesn’t cover the gate.” Lilith gestured toward the single, sturdy gate, and led Amity to it, “Which I lock. But  _ she _ just jumps over the wall.” Pausing, Lilith tapped her bottom lip with a finger. “The strangest thing is that she’s so careful not to harm the plants. I’ve never known a thief so considerate.” 

Lilith opened the gate with the key, and at Amity’s hesitation, said, “Leave me, I need to check what the little devil has pilfered this time.”

Not a word about Amity’s request, nor any indication when she might have finished ‘considering’. Amity left seething, and began the long walk back to Blighton. Not for the first time, she wished that the twins had taken her with them when they fled the household.

***

Two nights later (and two days closer to her wedding), Amity arrived punctually to dinner to find her father assisting Archmage Lilith into the guest of honour’s seat. Father and Mother sat at the head of the table, of course.

_ Four for dinner instead of three,  _ Amity thought bitterly as she glanced down the long expanse of empty table,  _ how lively. _

The dishes their servants brought out were fine and fancy, the best in the Blight chef’s repertoire. Clearly, Alador had found time to tell the kitchens of the Archmage’s visit, and simply hadn’t thought it necessary to mention it to his daughter. Typical. Still, she made the most of it, enjoying the excellent food.

They ate mostly in silence, with the occasional comment from Lord or Lady Blight on the topic of the food. Amity kept quiet. Children were to be seen and not heard. 

When the meal was over, and only the wine was left to finish, Alador asked Lilith why she had come. “And why should I tell you, Lord Blight?” she answered, “After all, you have ignored everything I have said since I arrived.” 

Amity watched her father’s impassive mask slowly form a frown as Lilith continued, “I said I was curious about your household and your family, but you showed me your business and your wealth. I asked for a simple room, and you gave me your best. I asked for a small meal, and you had your cooks create a lavish feast. I asked for water, and you gave me wine.” 

“Archmage, we only-” Odalia began, but Lilith talked over her.

“I can only assume you hoped to impress me, or to get me drunk enough to reveal something of use to you. But all you’ve achieved is demonstrating that you won’t listen to what I say, and that you don’t care what I want.” Lilith paused for a moment, as if considering her words. 

“For such inhospitality, a traditional witch might take a firstborn child as recompense, but it seems yours are not present. Besides, I am not a witch, and you said that your youngest daughter is the jewel of your family. Yet, you do not truly know her. It is always a shame when family do not see eye to eye. I think I can be of some assistance there.” She turned to Amity, and winked with the eye her parents couldn’t see.

“Amity Blight,” the Archmage began, rolling her hands as if shaping an invisible ball of clay, “You are young, and so I think I shall be gentle, and give you a delayed curse. It will not touch you until you are kissed by someone who truly loves you. I give you the gift of honesty. From the moment your lover’s lips touch your body, you shall be transformed: the rage and fury you conceal shall be displayed for all the world to see, in claw and fang and fur.” As she finished speaking, she raised her hand and blew across it toward Amity. 

Something unseen settled upon Amity, so light and airy it felt like the thinnest of veils, or perhaps a spiderweb. She might have thought she’d imagined it, in other circumstances, but she knew it was the curse. Angry tears lined up behind her eyes, but she held herself still.

“I take my leave of you, Lord and Lady Blight.” Lilith said, standing and walking toward the door. “I would thank you for your hospitality, if you had shown me any.”

Once the Archmage had left, Amity quietly excused herself and hurried to her room, going at once to her mirror. She had heard that curses left a small black mark, a symbol of some kind, on the unfortunate who had been cursed.

It was easy to find. She looked into her mirror and there it was, right in the middle of her forehead. It looked like a small black tattoo, of a knot of thorned vines. Her first thought was:  _ Damn it, I’m going to have to stop wearing my hair up. _

“Gift of honesty, what sort of rubbish is that supposed to be?” Amity asked her reflection, “Blasted archmage! I ask her for help and instead she curses me?”

She snatched up a book from her dresser, and after a moment of hesitation, avoided hurling it at her mirror by instead turning to aim at her bed. Her hands fisted, and it took a great deal of effort to pick up her pillow and scream into it rather than further throwing and breaking things. She would not be forgiven for being careless with her belongings. 

Eventually, she had screamed and cried herself to exhaustion, and then her maids arrived to help her prepare for bed.


End file.
